Snapshots: One Winged Angel
by Shivani
Summary: Slash - A collection of oneshots set within the OWA universe. Content and pairings will vary as applicable.
1. Alpha: On High

**Title**: Snapshots: One Winged Angel

**Introduction**: This "story" is intended to house excerpts, oneshots as it were, set within the same "universe" as my story One Winged Angel. While it may not always be the case, each chapter will generally be self-contained and not necessarily related to other chapters which may be added to the collection.

These things, for one reason or another, do not fit into the main story.

I may or may not also archive these at Grazhir. Haven't decided yet. Though if people review, I will definitely have a response page like always.

* * *

**Name**: Alpha: On High  
**Category**: Unused Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: This was written down one day when I was contemplating an interlude chapter for OWA. Obviously, I never actually used it. As you can see, it's incredibly short.

* * *

"Stop that," she said rather sharply, glancing at his clenched fists.

"I can't help it. You should know that by now," he replied with a definite edge to his voice.

She rolled her eyes. One got the feeling this scene had been played out any number of times and wasn't likely to change any time soon. "Don't you want him to be happy?"

"Of course I do! But this isn't over yet. He can still lose everything."

"I realize that. You realize that. That fellow over there would realize that if he had a clue what we were talking about. Speaking of which, have you ever seen him awake?"

James let out a gutteral growl, making Lily laugh.


	2. Beta: The Conversation

**Name**: Beta: The Conversation  
**Category**: Discarded Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: This was the original idea for the first "Occlumency" lesson with Severus. Obviously, I thought better of it once I got around to that point, and things went in an entirely different direction.

* * *

Without warning Snape asked, "Are those books proving to be useful, Potter?"

Harry looked up, startled. Snape was, to all outward appearances, deeply engrossed in the book before him. "That's rather difficult to determine, sir, but I believe so. I arranged for a kind of test, and it seemed to work."

Without raising his eyes Snape said, "Indeed. And has the headmaster invited you up for any friendly chats?"

"No, sir. The last time I spoke with him was at, er, the house. When he . . . suggested . . . a continuation of the lessons."

"Mm."

It was at least ten minutes later when Harry's concentration was broken again, this time by Snape saying, "I would suggest you steer clear of the headmaster's supply of sweets, Potter."

"Sir?"

Snape looked up, his mouth twisting slightly before he said, "He has been known to lace them with various things, Potter. It would be unfortunate indeed if you were to unwittingly accept one that prompted you to be very honest."

"Do you—all right, professor. Thank you for the advice."

Snape narrowed his eyes, then said, "What is it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's none of my business, sir."

Snape snorted and looked back down. Another ten minutes passed, at which point he slammed his book shut and let out an exasperated snort. "Potter, why are you being so damnably respectful of late?"

Harry blinked in surprise and looked away for a second. "Because, sir. T—it was pointed out to me that if I'm trying to put the past behind me with one person, I should try to do the same with you. While it may not affect how we deal with each other, it is to my benefit to grow up in some respects. As I told—" Harry bit his lip and glanced at the ceiling. "I should treat you with the respect you deserve, and brush off what I cannot change. You _do_ deserve respect for many things, and I shouldn't ignore those things simply because we don't get along."

"I see. And if I continue to view you as an arrogant, spoiled, reckless waste of breath?"

"That's your prerogative, sir."

"Of course it is. I'm so very glad you realize that. So am I supposed to believe this isn't all a ploy to get me to give you lessons again?"

Harry shrugged. "You will if you choose to, sir. And if you did, I would do my best to learn from you. But no, I don't expect anything to change. I'm simply doing what I ought to, what I should have done from the beginning."

"Is that so. Well then, I think you won't object to answering some of my questions."

Harry shrugged again. "I'll answer what I can, sir."

Snape sneered and laid his hands flat on his desk. "Did you steal boomslang skin from my office your second year?"

"No, sir."

"Then who did?"

"I can't answer that, sir. To do so would be to get someone else in trouble."

"Why was it stolen?"

"Polyjuice potion, sir. And no, I wasn't the one to make it, though I did use it."

"And the gillyweed that was stolen from my supplies?"

"I didn't steal that either, sir, though it was stolen for me as it turned out. I had not figured out how to manage the second task, but someone had, and made sure I had the gillyweed."

"And I suppose giving me a straight answer would also get someone else in trouble."

"Yes, sir, it would."

"And if I used veritaserum to verify those answers?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't exactly trust you at this point to stick to just those questions. I would have to decline."

"You think you would have a choice in the matter?" Snape countered.

Harry smiled faintly. "Without consent? He would know what you'd done, sir. I'd make sure of it."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "As if I couldn't obliviate you. I think you're bluffing, Potter."

"Am I?" Harry was, in truth, beginning to get very nervous. He closed his eyes and sent out, _'Tom?'_ He was very relieved when he heard an answer to his call.

_'Is there something wrong, Harry?'_

_'Snape is—just look at my memories from the past half hour, okay?'_

There was a moment of silence, then, _'Are you sure?'_

_'Just do it!'_

Eventually, though he had no objective way of knowing just how long it took, Harry heard a mental sigh. _'I see. Harry, do I have your permission to borrow your body for a few minutes?'_

"Problems, Potter? Can't think of anything to get yourself out of this one?" asked Snape snidely.

_'All right.'_

He felt it then, like something was being poured into him. Harry opened his eyes, though it was Tom controlling his actions for the moment, and smiled. "Oh, he did think of something, Severus," he heard himself say calmly, and not in his own voice. "And rightfully so, considering what he just allowed me to experience. So, you've been harboring notions of using force against Harry? Did you really think I wouldn't find out what you'd done?"

Snape sat back quickly, then sneered. "An interesting little trick, Potter. Do you honestly think this will convince me of anything?"

Harry's body rose to its feet, still smiling, then launched into several sentences in a language completely foreign to Harry.

Harry, merely a watcher, was surprised to see how quickly Snape's face paled at whatever it was Tom had said.

"Convinced now, Severus?" he heard himself say.

"Yes."

"Then I expect you will not be pressing this issue, or any others like it, ever again. I told you before that I would protect Harry, and I meant it. Do I make myself clear?"

"You do."

"Splendid! Though, I think perhaps I may just lurk for a while. And perhaps you should come see me when you have a moment, hm? I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about."

"As you say."

A moment later Harry felt a release of that odd pressure, though he could still sense Tom in his mind. _'I think we're all set now, Harry.'_

_'I think I'm glad you can actually do that, Tom.'_

_'Well, I never expected Severus to get . . . like that. I wonder why?'_

_'I told you he doesn't like me.'_

_'Yes, well. With your permission, I will lurk as I said, at least until you are safely back in your rooms.'_

_'That's fine. Of course, I was bored enough in here that I should have seen if you had time to talk earlier.'_

_'You can always check next time. If I'm not in the middle of something, then of course.'_

_'I don't think he'll try anything now, Tom. I have no idea what you said to convince him, but it worked. Now he'll never know when you're actually paying attention.'_

_'This is true, but I intend to at least try to find out what caused this.'_

_'You aren't going to hurt him, are you?'_

_'Why, Harry, is that concern? I'll behave myself, you have my word.'_

_'All right. He was being almost nice until. . . .'_

Some time later—Harry had by then stopped noticing the odd looks he was getting from Snape—he was startled by the sound of a throat being cleared and looked up.

"Time is up, Potter. You may go."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you next time, then."

Snape muttered something he couldn't quite catch as he quickly stowed his belongings and slipped out the door.


	3. Gamma: The Letter

**Name**: Gamma: The Letter  
**Category**: Deleted Material  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: The letter Tom left behind. Given the text I worked out for the chapter itself, this doesn't fit into the story, because it leaves certain things in no doubt whatsoever. It's also far too short considering how long Albus actually spent reading the letter.

* * *

Dumbledore,

Your Golden Child is so delightfully naive, old man, even after a year in the serpent's den. You taught him so well, it seems, that he never even suspected my identity when I came to fetch him.

Furthermore, it appears that you held far too much confidence in the integrity of the wards placed around that wretched little hovel. Given that they were blood-based, you ought to have done more research into such a distasteful topic. Did you really think they would keep me at bay forever?

By the time you even begin to figure out where I've taken the stupid child, he'll be dead, and your hopes with him. And I will have spent that time indulging myself in rather a lot of amusement at the whelp's expense.

Just know this, old man—your lack of anything resembling logic has afforded me the opportunity for a staggering amount of pleasure. I can only hope the boy enjoys his time with me as much as I will before I kill him.

Lord Voldemort


	4. Delta: I Refuse

**Name**: Delta: I Refuse  
**Category**: Missing Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: Not much to say about this one. However, a Hermione reaction is in the works and might show up as #5.

* * *

"Ron, dear, Albus would like to know if you will be speaking at Harry's memorial service," Molly said tentatively.

"I'm sorry, what?" Ron seemed to snap out of his daze and pay attention to his surroundings. After she repeated herself Ron underwent a visible change in demeanor and shook his head violently. "I refuse."

"But, Ron, why?"

"No. I am _not_ going to use Harry's death as an excuse to stand in the spotlight like some people would. I'm not even sure of the point. Most of the wizarding world has never even met Harry, and I bet most of them don't give a damn past the fact that he managed to defeat Voldemort. Why even bother? They're all happy and safe now, so they can afford to come out in droves and be all sappy about their dead hero."

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly shrieked.

"Well, you know, mum, I can lie if you want, and pretend like all those people who never once bothered to put their own lives on the line are worth the time it takes to spit on them. They'll just sit there and nod their heads agreeably, dash away a few tears, then go home feeling terribly good about themselves. No, I don't think I'll be going."

"I think you're being horribly selfish, Ron. Don't you think Harry would appreciate you speaking?"

Ron pushed back his chair violently and got to his feet. "What Harry would want? Why don't you go ask him, mum? Oh, wait, he's dead. You have no idea what he'd want! Harry would hate all this attention! And if you stopped for two seconds and decided to be honest, you'd admit that yourself."

"Young man, you'll be going to that service if I have to get your father to body bind you," Molly threatened.

"Fine!" he shouted. "But I refuse to speak, and unless you plan on using an Unforgivable to make me do it, don't expect me to change my mind." He stalked off out through the kitchen door to the sound of his mother's shrieking. A short time later he was well out of sight and disapparated, then sent out a call.

Dobby answered promptly and was happy to transport him to the Chamber library so he could speak with Haze. "So, mate, I hope you aren't going to get bent out of shape now I've refused to give a sappy speech about you at your memorial, eh?"


	5. Epsilon: That Idiot!

**Name**: Epsilon: That Idiot!  
**Category**: Missing Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: The pov is skippy, but that's okay!

* * *

Hermione sat down to eat her nutritionally balanced breakfast, pausing to shake out her napkin and drape it over her lap, and to smile at her parents, before picking up a fork and having a bite. When an owl flew in with that day's Daily Prophet she absently produced a knut and slipped it into the bird's pouch, and set the paper off to one side to read once she was done. After all, it was highly frowned upon in their household to read at the table, never mind what was customary at Hogwarts.

She mused as she ate, pleased that she had long since finished all her holiday work and had managed to get a good head start on the upcoming year. And at that, she had spent quite a bit of time pondering the prophecy Harry had confided in her. Hermione had to admit, if she were to be at all honest with herself, that it was possible Harry could be correct. Maybe.

He might actually _not_ live through the final confrontation. Still, she had promised him she would figure things out. He had been right to come to her, and it nearly broke her heart to realize he had been suffering so nobly all year long and hadn't dared talk to anyone for fear of their safety. That's what she kept telling herself, that is.

In all actuality, she _was_ touched that he had confided in her, and only her, but a part of her would not be denied. A part of her was very angry at Harry for keeping her in the dark for so long. Another part of her was astonished that Harry could keep a secret for that long; she simply hadn't thought it was possible. She would like to think it was a guy thing, but she knew quite well what dreadful gossips girls could be. Well, that was all right. She could keep a secret, and she would figure out how to help her friend. He obviously needed her.

It was about then that her father made a choking noise, which caused her to look over in alarm. "Dad?"

John Granger tapped the folded Daily Prophet several times rapidly.

Hermione looked down in confusion, then frowned when she realized she could see part of Harry's face. Were they running another of those horrid stories about him? Then she noticed the headline and quickly reached out to unfold the paper to see it properly.

**Dark Lord Defeated—Harry Potter Dead**

The first thing she did was screech, "That idiot!" But as she continued to stare in disbelief at the visage of a photo-shy Harry Potter, her lower lip began to tremble and her eyes suddenly began to sting. "I failed him," she whispered.

"Don't take on responsibility that doesn't belong to you," her mother said quietly.

Hermione looked up. "What? Mum, he's dead. I never had a chance to figure out the—"

"That what, dear?" John asked.

"I promised I would never tell!" Hermione wailed. "And now I've failed him! He came to me—me!—asking for my help, and . . . he's dead? He can't be dead. There must be some kind of mistake! Barely anything happened this past year, Harry wasn't involved in a life or death struggle, and he—it's totally the wrong time of year for Merlin's sake!"

John looked at his wife helplessly. She responded by scooting her chair closer to their daughter, so he pulled the paper over and began reading the article. By the time he looked back up Hermione was pacing around violently and muttering under her breath.

"This says he went missing on the ninth."

Hermione stopped dead and shrieked, "What!"

"He . . . went missing on the ninth," John repeated.

"How could—?" And then she fainted dead away.

John's chair went flying as he leapt forward to try to catch his daughter before she hit the ground. A few minutes later they were in the sitting room; Hermione had been settled onto the couch and was just stirring back to consciousness, with Jane sitting patiently at her side with a glass in one hand.

"Have some of this, dear," she said and extended the glass.

Hermione took it without really looking and had a sip, immediately spitting it back up. "What the bloody hell is this?" she demanded.

"Hermione Jane Granger! You will _not_ curse in this house," Jane said sternly. "And it's brandy."

"Am I suddenly some missish featherhead from a trashy romance novel?" Hermione asked.

"I wouldn't know, dear," Jane said patiently. "I'm not the one who reads them."

"Are you saying I do?" Hermione asked indignantly.

Jane reached over and reclaimed the glass. "If you don't like it, don't drink it. And I have helped clean your room for years now, dear, so I've seen what you hide in your closet."

John thought the byplay was amusing and distracting, but rather felt it was better to get back to the real issue and gave his wife a meaningful look.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but your friend is dead," Jane said bluntly, but gently.

What little colour remained in Hermione's face fled at that and her eyes went quite watery. A second later fat tears began to stream out and slip down her cheeks. "That just can't be, mum. He's not supposed to die. I wasn't going to let that happen. I thought he was just exaggerating, and now I've failed him, and I'll never forgive myself. And we were at odds this year, and. . . ."

Hermione rattled on incoherently for some time as her parents watched and made futile attempts at comforting her, and eventually she drifted off to sleep, exhausted. Jane tucked a blanket around her and went back into the kitchen with her husband to clean up the remains of breakfast.

"I wonder at times if she was in love with that boy," John mused once they were done, then took a seat with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Surely not, John. I would have thought the Weasley boy," Jane replied as she set a cup of tea down and slid into a seat herself.

John shrugged.


	6. Zêta: An Honest Man

**Name**: Zêta: An Honest Man  
**Category**: Missing Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: Just a short little deal that popped into my head. Nothing special.

* * *

Ron strolled in and flopped onto the couch, nodding a thanks as Ash indicated the refreshments tray on the table. "I've a bone to pick with you."

Ash raised a brow. "What might that be, pray tell?"

"I want to know when you're going to make an honest man out of my best mate," Ron said a bit sternly.

Ash blinked a few times in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Ron scowled and snatched up a bottle of butterbeer. "Don't you think you ought to bond with him?"

"We _are_ bonded, Ron."

"Yes, I know. I'm not stupid. I still think you ought to marry him. It would indicate a willingness to be with him above and beyond what fate had in store for you two, and Haze is too damn oblivious to have even thought of looking into tradition and all that rot."

Ash snapped his mouth shut, slightly surprised that it had dropped open, and considered. A suspicious glance was given to his companion; since when was Ron that openly perceptive?

"Don't look at me like that," Ron said, looking somewhat affronted. "I'm not completely hopeless, I'll have you know. I don't always need people like Hermione whispering the right things to say in my ear, or even having to point stuff out."

Ash cleared his throat uncomfortably, not at all willing to comment directly on the accusation. "I see. Well, since you seem to have given this a lot of thought, have you any suggestions?"


	7. Êta: I've Done It

**Name**: Êta: I've Done It  
**Category**: Missing Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: Ho hum... here's me breaking a hard rule of mine. Or at least, the start of it.

* * *

A ponderously slow knocking had Haze setting his book aside and meandering to the front door, wondering who would be visiting at such an early hour. He opened the door to see a haggard Severus Snape leaning against the side of the house, seemingly half asleep.

"Severus?"

"I've done it," the man muttered.

Haze raised his brows, then reached out to grab his friend by the arm and pull him inside. After closing the door he guided Severus into the sitting room and into an armchair, and as he sat back down he asked, "You've done what?"

In response Severus reached into a pocket and withdrew a stack of muggle paper held together with a binder clip. Haze grinned slightly as he accepted it, and as Severus relaxed into the chair's embrace and closed his eyes, then glanced at the top sheet.

That produced a broad grin. It had taken some time, but Ash had finally talked Severus around to his way of thinking when it came to the advantages of muggle technology, and in particular, computers. Haze was holding a printout, and was grateful he would not have to decipher his friend's sometimes torturous handwriting.

His eyes widened slowly as he read, not quite believing what he was seeing. He blinked and stopped, then concentrated, holding a finger to his lips for silence as Dobby popped in, tilting his head toward Severus. Dobby nodded his understanding so Haze said quietly, "Ash should still be here, so can you find him and ask him to join me, please?"

"Yes, master," Dobby whispered before popping back out.

Haze went back to reading while he waited for his husband to arrive, amazed and delighted. Ash wandered in shortly thereafter and sat beside him, so Haze left off his perusal and gave him the report. Ash read much more quickly than he as it was, and was soon making pleased noises in his throat.

"This is fantastic," Ash said a few minutes later, careful to keep his voice soft.

Severus chose to comment by way of a soft snore, which made both of them smirk.

"I think we should get Dobby to pop him into the spare room," Haze suggested, then called the elf back at Ash's nod to take care of putting Severus to bed. Once they were away Haze looked at his husband with shining eyes.

"Why do I get the feeling you want to volunteer to be the guinea pig?" Ash asked wryly.

"Why do I get the feeling you won't mind so much the idea of me carrying our baby?" Haze countered. "After all, we certainly go at it like rabbits, and you might enjoy having me barefoot and pregnant, my dear Ash."

"I enjoy having you everywhere and anywhere," Ash said with a smirk. "As for children. . . . Well, that might also be nice."

"So, can we? Please?"

Ash favored him with a speculative look. "What will you give me if I say yes?"

Haze snorted and bit his lip, then said, "I'll be your devoted slave for a week and cater to your every whim."

"A month."

Haze huffed. "As if."

"Fine, two weeks, and not one word of complaint when I mercilessly order you around as though I just bought you off the auction block."

"Done." Haze reached out and shook his husband's hand firmly.

"Excellent," Ash said with a devious smirk. "And, since Severus will be asleep for some time, I believe now will be the perfect time for you to start making good on that promise. On your knees, pet."


	8. Thêta: A Spy Never Dies

**Name**: Thêta: A Spy Never Dies  
**Category**: Missing Scene  
**Responses**: Please see my profile for the location of review responses.

**Notes**: Just me being an idiot. I blame Batsutousai.

* * *

Haze was happily draped over Ash's form, nuzzling his husband's neck and enjoying the hand that stroked up and down his back. Then suddenly Ash said, "So, if we're going to do this, I wonder if you'll have hormonal issues."

Haze frowned and dragged himself up to a sitting position. "If? What do you mean if? I've already bloody well agreed to be your devoted slave for a fortnight, and you're suddenly saying if?"

Ash tapped him on the nose and said, "You should not talk back to your master, pet."

Haze rolled his eyes in an eloquently silent testimony. "You must have a reason for saying that. Now what is it?"

Ash's gaze slid past Haze's shoulder, a slow smirk forming on his face. "Yes, a reason. Actually, our dear Severus is spying on us from the hallway, and has been for quite a while. I wanted to see his reaction to your temporary slavery."

"What?" Haze whipped his head around, and sure enough, an incredibly embarassed Severus was lurking just that side of the archway to the hall, one hand pressed against the wall for support. Haze wondered just at what point Severus had started watching them make love.

"I think we may have woken him up, pet."

Haze turned back to stare at his beloved. "No, really?" Another look back showed that Severus had not moved. "Severus!" Once their friend shook his head as though to clear it Haze continued, "Care to come in and sit down?" A second later he was disengaging himself from Ash, completely unconcerned about his nudity, and producing his wand so he could cast cleansing charms.

"Where the hell are our clothes?"

Ash smirked at him. "I think the bedroom. Either a house elf tidied up while we were otherwise occupied, or I banished them. I'm really not sure." He glanced over and arched a brow. "Severus, do sit down. You look a bit unsteady on your feet."

Haze huffed and disappeared down the hallway and was shortly back, tossing a pair of sleep pants at his husband and nailing him in the face. "Get dressed, you hedonistic beast," he said, then grabbed Severus's arm and dragged him over to a chair.

"Enjoy your . . . nap, Severus?" Ash asked lazily as he dressed.

Severus looked up, a bit shaken in demeanor, then said quietly, "I think I'm beginning to understand the muggle fascination for pornography."


End file.
